


Fear, Love, and Eyeliner

by permanent_marker



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Eyeliner, Fluff, M/M, i dont know how to use tags, kitchen shower, umm tormentation?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-09 01:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13470879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/permanent_marker/pseuds/permanent_marker
Summary: Mark is a nervous mess with a camera and a deep-rooted 'fear' of RogerRoger just really wants Mark to like himGay shit ensues





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooooooo this is like something i've just been writing in my spare time? I'm aware it might not be good because this is actually the first piece of prose i've written in a year but i don't know, maybe this will mark as an improvement.  
> This is mostly a preview chapter of what's to come and i'll probably have more up in either this week or the next.
> 
> (oh and if anyone maybe wants to beta read for me i would appreciate it a lot xox)
> 
> I don't own rent (sadly)

**Chapter One: Zoning Out**

 

When Mark thought of Roger, his heart beat faster, and not in that sweet, romantic way. More of a...fear fuelled response? In short: Mark was terrified of the guy. He just had a certain...something. Wow.

“ _How eloquent Marky,”_ Roger’s voice reverberated in Mark’s head, promptly shaken out by a set of snapping fingers in front of his eyes. Mark looked up to see Collins looking down at him sitting on the couch. Mark rubbed his eyes.

“Oh- hey” Mark looked up, still slightly dazed.

“ _Oh-hey”_ Collins mocked, “Man you’ve been staring into space too many hours and it’s creeping us out.”

_Us?_ Mark thought to himself, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck, _who’s u-_ ** _shit_** _._ Mark looked up at Roger who was sitting a few metres away, feral amusement gracing his lips. Mark tensed in fright again- _something bout that smile…_ Mark shook his head once again, his lips turned upwards politely.

Mark had been living in this apartment for two months, in that time he’d probably had a conversation alone with Roger twice? Well... more like one and a half times. Mark would be more concerned about seeming rude if the thought of Roger didn't conjure absolute terror within Mark’s thoughts. He remembered his first encounter with Roger. Collins had introduced Mark to him before he’d moved in. Mark wasn't nervous (for once) when Thomas told him that Mark would be moving in with him _and_ Roger. That changed when he met the guy.

He and Collins entered the loft, laden with two boxes which held every single one of Mark’s possessions, and he was no more anxious about meeting Roger than he would usually be. But he took one look at the man on the couch, fiddling with the strings on his guitar and grinning at him with that _fucking smile_ , and he paled. He didn’t know _why,_ and well, objectively he knew that he has no reason to be scared. But. He felt entirely different around Roger, with bright lights in his head screaming ‘danger’.

Mark snapped himself out of this train of thought, knowing that if he started thinking about Roger he would zone out again. He looked up at Collins, who was now sitting on the arm of the couch, talking about his three and a half month long trip out of town, which he was leaving for in a few days.

* * *

 

Roger knew that Mark hated him, he didn’t know _why,_ and he didn’t know exactly what he’d done that made Mark avoid him at all opportunities but he absolutely planned on changing Mark’s mind about him. This plan had one slight flaw: Roger Davis had zero idea how to make someone like him, mostly because he usually didn’t care. A normal person might raise the question as to why Roger actually cared this time, but Roger was far from normal, and had the inexplicable ability to deny anything that might reveal and ounce of vulnerability. Not that there was anything to reveal. Roger just wanted to be on good terms with his roomate, what with Collin’s going away for a few months...and him and Mark going to be alone in the loft. With no-one else. Where anything could ha- _No Roger._ Roger shook his head, banishing those thoughts out of his head. _Just. Friends._ So here he sat, across the couch from Mark, watching his eyes blink to attention as Collins shook him from the daze which he seemed to be lost in. It was kind of cute, seeing Mark stop chewing on his lip and sit up to attention. His eyes were so fucking blue, framed with almost white eyelashes. Roger smirked to himself. Okay, maybe he wanted a little more than ‘just friends’.

“I’m going to the Life for a bit, catch you boys later” he looked between the two of them and raised his eyebrows at Roger, to which the musician promptly responded to by flipping him off.  

He watched Collins slide the door closed as he left. Roger moved across the couch next to Mark, fiddling with the little knobs and buttons on his camera.

 


	2. Baby Powder and Diet COke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've finally finished this next part - it's short but i think all of them are going to be so i can update more frequently and not lose motivation. ummmmmm here it is, please comment???? criticism helps 
> 
> xox

 

* * *

“Whatcha doing there Marky?” The right side of Roger’s lips quirked up, raising one eyebrow with it.

Mark jumped. Well not really jumped, more of an...exaggerated flinch. He  _ really  _ needed to stop zoning out like this. He felt a flush rise in his cheeks, stuttering out a reply of “oh-uh-noth-nothing.”  _ Wow, Cohen. Really smooth.  _ He tentatively looked up at the other man, just quick enough to catch a furrowed brow being smoothed over on his roommate’s pale forehead, and felt a short stab of guilt at his rudeness. He let a small smile escape in apology and felt slightly better when the skin beside Roger’s eyes crinkled up in a grin that didn’t seem all that terrifying anymore. And then the smirk returned, with that stupid raised eyebrow and Mark’s heart started pounding again, he searched for a way to excuse himself  _ out  _ of this conversation when the musician got up, reaching out his hand. Mark faintly heard Roger asking something and nodded absentmindedly before realising that he’d just agreed to something and that he had no idea what.

“C’mon camera boy, let’s go.”

Mark blinked “what?”

“You...just agreed to check out our sound equipment?” Roger tilted his head in confusion. “It’s not working and we have a gig tonight. Take a look?  _ Please? _ ” 

“Oh, well-um-” Mark had no way out of this. He sighed “sure, lead the way” he grabbed his coat and slid open the loft door.

* * *

 

If you asked Roger how he ended up backstage, with Mark tracing eyeliner around his eyes, he’d probably say that he didn’t know. It would be a lie, but that’s what he would say. In reality, he asked (he also asked Mark to stay for the show) because he knew well enough that Mark wouldn’t say no. And  _ maybe _ \- just maybe -he liked the sight of Mark grazing his lower lip with his teeth in concentration as the filmmaker ringed Roger’s eyes with black pigment. He had definitely forgotten how to breathe for like. Six minutes now.  _ Damn perfectionist.  _ Those lips were so fucking close to his. So close within reach of his. He felt a shuddering release of stress as Mark sat down, looking uncomfortable at the weird shift of proximity between them.

“Is it okay?” 

Roger grabbed the small stand up mirror on the table beside them, holding it up and admiring Mark’s handiwork. “Perfect.” he smiled, “and- thank you, for helping us with the sound.” He suddenly felt self-conscious which was a first. Mark was a lot of firsts. His eyes flashed back to the satchel sitting on a crate nearby-filled with needles, he knew. Something told him that Mark wouldn’t exactly approve of how Roger spent his… ‘downtime’. 

“You should go-before the audience starts crowding” He saw Mark furrow his brow, and felt a grin spread across his face. “I want you at the front.” He winked, opening the door for the shorter man.

* * *

 

Mark was  _ confused.  _ And he really didn’t like it. And he was watching his roommate on stage, all eyes turned sultry and sunset glitter across gaunt cheekbones and Mark was wondering if he really was scared of Roger.  _ Roger _ , Roger who hadn’t broken eye contact through the whole show. Roger who was somehow intoxicated and was that why he’s been bursting out in laughter between songs? Roger whose tongue piercing flitted across his top lip like a butterfly when he licked his lips. Mark looked up over his camera, tentatively meeting Roger’s eyes and filling immediately with ice and fire as he realised that he wasn’t scared of Roger. That he was - that he was -

  
  


\- Well,  _ Fuck. _

  
  


Mark made his way backstage, but Roger found him first, red-faced and hot-handed, clutching at the curved angle of Mark’s neck and shoulders. 

“Heyyyy Markyyyyy” Mark caught Roger by the juncture between his forearm and upper arm, steadying him and started wondering why he’d listened to Roger when he told him to leave backstage twenty minutes before the show. Then he started chastising himself for caring so much.  _ You were scared of him an hour ago! _

Mark shook his head, sighing.

“Let’s get you home Roger.” His heart was pounding in his ribs and his thoughts were pounding in his head and he tried to ignore the fact that Roger’s hand was clammy and clasped around his as he led Roger through the street, pretending to listen to the babbling. It was almost a relief when they found themselves back in the loft. Almost. He sat Roger down on the sofa, going to the kitchen to get his roommate a glass of water. He returned to Roger splayed out across the whole sofa, eyes half lidded and euphoric grin across his face. He sighed and pulled Roger up slightly to lean on the arm of the chair as he pressed the glass to the musicians lips, tipping, trickling the water into his mouth. He raised the glass again, perched on the very edge of the sofa, and leant down, placing it on the floor. He felt something grab at his hips, and he flinched, it was Roger, just Roger.  _ Just? _ Mark decided that he did not enjoy his internal dialogues with himself. Roger had pulled him in, loosely laying his arms around Mark’s shoulders and collarbone as he leant back. 

“Uh- Roger?” Mark was tensed up and falling apart at the same time, and all he could really think about was that the man entrapping him in an embrace smelt of baby powder and diet coke. It wasn’t a bad combination per-say but it was honestly bewildering how he managed to think about this while his pulse was beating at approximately the speed of a freight train. This was fine. Absolutely fine.

 

_ This was not fine.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooooo what dyou think? have i gone to fast? is this fine? what do you think will happen next?

**Author's Note:**

> Well folks, that's it. Comment if you want to: i appreciate it especially if you have constructive criticism.


End file.
